Gorim: Ripred's part is kind of awkward. I apologize for this taking a few hours longer than usual, but I couldn't think of anything good. Ripred might be slightly OOC. I apologize for that too. But do keep in mind that he's been fighting for four years against someone he never wanted to fight, fighting for something he doesn't even agree with. Plus, he's old. Not that old, but old. Nerissa's, what, 18, and he did say that when he tried to conquer the Fount with an army of lobsters, it was years before she was born. Plus, I assume you'd have to be pretty experienced to try something that stupid and not be shot down on the spot by others. So, I'd guess 40's or 50's for him. And that's pretty old.
idestroyuall: I love Boots. I definitely want to write more about her later. I wish I could write more about each character; they've got so much back-story.
LikeYouShouldKnow: "The Cabbage Patch"?
On Edge: Yeah, something wasn't quite right with the most recent chapter. I'm not sure what, exactly.
Anyway, enjoy. :)
Betrayed?
Ripred had come to a conclusion
Wars have no meaning.
For four years, he'd been leading a huge group of Gnawer rebels against the Regalian Queen, Luxa. In the beginning, he had almost completely agreed with all the speeches he'd been giving. Almost. But deep down inside, there was that grain of sensibility that kept muttering, "This is the kind of stuff that killed your family. The stuff you're doing right now."
And that grain kept growing. Growing and growing… Until, finally, he couldn't stand it anymore.
He had to call it off. This whole stupid charade had gone on long enough. He didn't know how he was going to do it; there was still a sizable amount of rats who agreed with "him". But he had to.
Maybe Sliverclaw had had it right all this time. What had she said before? "A victory using violence will only spur a more violent reaction." Something like that. At the time, he'd been too blinded by humiliation and the need for revenge to listen. But now he'd calmed down sufficiently to realize that his second-in-command's sister was right. What had been accomplished by this whole thing? The humans just wanted to get rid of them faster, and old injustices were resurfacing on both sides, being thrown at one another, almost in such a way as to keep this whole thing going.
Ripred sighed. He was getting too old for this. What was he now? Fifty? A little bit younger? A little bit older? Not as old as Solovet, but close. Maybe she could do this until she died, but he'd rather die in peace, thank you.
Ripclaw entered the room, and tapped on Ripred's shoulder. "Sir? The others have made up a tactic for the next battle." Ripred chuckled softly.
"It's been a long time," he muttered, turning to Ripclaw. "Since someone's called me 'Sir'."
Ripred should have noticed it. Ripclaw's face held carefully made-up confusion, but in his eye, something glinted mysteriously.
"But, everyone's been calling you 'Sir'. For four years." Ripclaw said, watching the older rat carefully.
"Look," said Ripred awkwardly. "We should just drop this whole thing. It's not working. Plus, I-" He cut himself off. What exactly was he going to say? He cared too much? That was definitely something. What, precisely, was he going to do, if by some strange coincidence, he managed to overthrow Luxa? He had too much respect for her to humiliate her in any way; held her too close for too long to kill her. What, exactly, was his plan?
He was snapped out of his reverie by Ripclaw, who was giggling. In a very freaky way, no less.
"Idiot." Ripclaw sneered.
Realization dawned on Ripred. But it was too late. Another rat leapt from the shadows, slicing into him before Ripred ripped his throat out.
"Damn." He muttered, staring at Ripclaw as several other young, strong rats came into the room. "I am getting old, aren't I?"
Ripclaw laughed. "Yes." And the other rats pounced.
Ripred killed them all easily, but several, somehow, managed to slice at him, carving out large pieces of flesh.
"Some of those pups," muttered Ripred, his good hand clamped over the gushing wound on his arm. "Were ragers, weren't they?" Ripclaw nodded.
"One old, weary rager doesn't do as well against four, well-trained, well-rested ones, and more, eh, 'Sir'?" Ripclaw sneered. Then, he pounced as well, slicing at Ripred's face.
Ripred was ready this time, however. He dodged, but Ripclaw's claw still connected, if lightly. It sliced a cut into Ripred's face, intersecting with the one Solovet gave him.
Ripred wished he could rip out Ripclaw's throat, but right now, he was in no position to tempt fate. Besides, with Ripclaw obviously controlling the group of gnawers, and with him being so bloodthirsty (Ripred had been with him for four years. He knew.), he had to warn Luxa. Or at least try to. Whether she listened to him or not, he didn't know.
Ripred shook his head as he ran through the sulfur tunnel, leaving all pursuit far behind. "I am getting so old, it's not even funny."
--
Gregor sat in the dark, dank dungeon, with Henry, who hadn't said anything since they'd been imprisoned. Their hands were still tied behind their backs. Their stomachs rumbled loudly, often. And Gregor felt a horrible wetness on his shirt, as the horrible wounds on his side went on unattended for hours.
The metallic smell of blood filled the air.
There was no telling how long they were in there before the door opened, but open it did, and in walked Howard. Gregor was shocked at how different he looked. Howard's muscles, which had disappeared after the "Curse of the Warmbloods" epidemic, had completely come back. The pox scars were very much faded. And he carried a medical kit, with all the air of someone who knew exactly how to use it.
Howard cut the bonds around Gregor's wrists, but ignored Henry. Gregor winced as blood came back into his arms, bring pain with it. Howard then cut open Gregor's shirt, and gasped at the wounds.
They were obviously becoming infected. Little dribbles of pus and bright red streaks colored Gregor's pale side. As Howard cleaned the wounds gently, Gregor screamed silently.
"They should have called someone a great deal sooner." Howard whispered to no one in particular. Then he looked at Gregor, reaching out and touching the young man's forehead. "A slight fever," he whispered, taking out a bottle and giving some of it to Gregor. "That should do." Then Howard stopped, dropping the professional act. He cast a quick look at the guards, who seemed to be paying no attention, and gave Gregor a quick hug.
Gregor almost cried, returning the hug gratefully.
"Luxa believes that you have sided with Henry. But Vikus and I have talked with the flier, Apollo, and we both remain convinced of your innocence." Gregor smiled at him gratefully. Howard looked at him curiously. "Why is it that you do not speak, Gregor?"
"That is because," Henry cut in. "He cannot. He has not been able to speak since he was rescued from the rat pits." Howard turned to Henry and glared.
"You." He said coldly. "You deserve whatever is given to you; whatever punishment they choose."
Henry sighed, then whispered, sadness almost painfully evident, "I agree with you. Why I am here, I have no idea." Howard seemed surprised for a second, then turned and looked at Gregor.
"I shall inform the council that you cannot speak." Gregor nodded. Then Howard turned to Henry and cut his bonds. Henry gave him a grateful look, but it was not acknowledged. Howard then placed two trays of food on the floor for them. "You have been in here for nearly a day. The trial is tomorrow." He said, turning to the door. He stopped and turned to the pair, his hand on the door, identical to how Luxa was a day ago. His eyes landed on Gregor.
"I am glad you have light still, Gregor." He said with a smile. And then he closed the door, making the room pitch black again.
